You Will Never Be Free
by Joanna Synclare
Summary: You sold your soul to the Devil. You are my slave. You speak of liberty? Foolish Vergil. You will never be free." After two years of imprisonment, Vergil has finally escaped Hell, but not without a price: a curse that will tear his soul in two. Slight VxL


**Author's Note:**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Devil May Cry. If I did, my OC from my other story would be in it 'cause she's awesome.**

**Hey everyone-who's-bothering-to-read-this! THANK YOU FOR CHECKING IT OUT! I appreciate it. But you know what I love more? Reviews! No flames please, just constructive criticism. **

**Summary (short+extended): "You sold your soul to the Devil. You are my slave. You speak of liberty? Emancipation? Foolish Vergil. You will never be free." After two years of imprisonment, Vergil has finally escaped Hell, but not without a price. The latent curse he now carries in his very blood shackles him back to Mundus, and he will never be free with it intact. Slight VxL. First Person POV.**

**This fic takes place after DMC3, but before DMC1 because I know nothing at all about that game (well, okay, I know SOME things about it) so Vergil escaped before then and will (or will he?) go back.**

**Rating: T, for maybe some mild cursing and violence.**

**Genere: Angst/Supernatural, a little romance here and there and my own attempts at humor.**

**I am currently looking for a Beta-Reader, so anyone interested, either review or PM me!**

**-JS**

You Will Never Be Free:

Prologue: Remembrance

_You will never be free…._

The words echoed dully through the ache of my head. I tried and tried, but I could not place a name to the voice amid my fogged brain. It was rather dark. My eyelids opened a fraction of centimeter, and I could see the subtle twinkling of far-off galaxies and stars. To what I presume is the west, the sun was lazily ending its day. Its fingers were curling softly through the indigo sky, dotting it with pink, red, and a soft yellow. I closed my eyes again and took in the severe throbbing nearly all over my body. The gashes along my arms, legs, abdomen, and back were searing with agony.

How did I get those injuries?

I could feel the ghostly presence of smaller wounds on my appendages, but they were buzzing and itching as I healed. Wait, healed? Oh… That's right… I'm the half-demon son of Sparda. One half of the whole, the other shadow of the legacy. Then who was the other?

A face was collected from random memories drifting through my mind. I saw a red coat, white hair messily styled, and the grin and smirk that played his features.

My brother… _Dante…_

Twin brother. I grabbed hold of any memories I could and replayed them.

"_This is mine Dante. It belongs to a son of Sparda." My gut gave a very human-like wrench at those words. He was my twin, and even if he was a nuisance, I still had that pesky brotherly love for him. I stared at the shock on his face as I continued to stumble closer to the edge. _

_He would be better off without me. My side was burning with agony by now. It doesn't feel very pleasuring to be gutted by anyone, especially by _him._ But, I suppose, he has proven himself. Though I would never admit it in spoken words, it doesn't bother me too much that I first met the cold, crushing Defeat by his hands. _

_He was scared. He probably still loved me too, despite the hell we've put each other through, despite my uttered insults, despite my horrid mistakes…_

_He reached out to me, yet I allowed myself to tilt back. Quickly drawing my sword, I slashed at his hand._

The memory ended abruptly at that. I reached out slowly to my side and found the silver and blue hilt of the katana I'd cut so many wounds with, both the physical and the invisible. _Yamato…_ That's right. That's its name. Father had given it to me.

The last time I had seen Dante, I hurt him more than any words could describe. Of course I didn't care at the time. I just thirsted for red-hot power, control over the weaker. I guess he was the victorious in so many ways.

The Temen-ni-gru. That's the tower's name. I remember that now. There had been that insane buffoon of a clown. Arkham. The one who deceived us all to attempt to control the very power I was killing for; the power of the Legendary Dark Night Sparda. I hope Lady took care of him.

_Lady…_ I remember the determined flames in her eyes. They flared beautifully, and her strength seemed superior to her fellow humans. Despite that, that is what she is. _Human._ Polychromatic eyes showing that she would never give up as long as she still captured the oxygen in the very air we all breathe. Untidy and short ebony hair, a white shirt, and her purple shorts loaded with ammunition and a large arsenal of guns. I hadn't forgotten her, not one single detail.

I'll freely admit that I admired her strength even then, but over the past two years… two years, my brain informed me. I don't remember them, only my longing to return home, the building urge to see Dante and lovely Lady.

I tried to sit up slowly, but it caused fresh pain to shoot through my veins. I let out a quick exhalation of breath. A gasp of pain. Weakness. I'm not used to that…

I opened my eyes again, the sun only a little lower in the descent to its nocturnal hiding spot. I could move my head, as I quickly figured out. I glanced down at my arms, which were covered by the shredded remains of my blue trench coat. They had long gashes that lead down from my shoulder to the back of my hand, which was gripping Yamato tightly.

I flinched at the sight. They were a deep, disgusting purple color. They were oozing slightly, but not with blood. A purple-black , foul smelling goo was dripping down into the asphalt. They appeared to be slowly healing, but the skin around it was the same appalling shade as the cut. It stung a helluva lot. Looking down at the rest of my body, I found my normal black vest also ripped in many places, as well as hmy pants. They were cut all over, oozing disgustedly.

I laid my head back and took a deep, painful, and ragged breath. It would be fully nightfall within a matter of minutes. I was exhausted, hungry, and dirty. Dirt and blood caked my normally white hair, which was messily strewn about. I'll bet it gave me an appearance much like Dante, if he had the curses and pizza beat out of him, like I did my dignity and freedom.

I have no clue where I happen to be, though I think it may be an abandoned alley or street based off the mockingly hard asphalt under me.

My head was still aching, and I presume that I may have fallen from somewhere… or something…like a portal.

Hell. I had been in _Hell_ for two years…

I couldn't remember any farther than that.

The sun disappeared behind the world, sleeping after a long day just to awaken the next.

It was then that I felt an odd sensation. Fresh, searing-hot pain shot through me though I did not move or stir in the slightest besides the soft falls and ascents of my chest. I let out another gasp and my eyes shut hard. My hands curled into fists and I clenched them. My teeth were gritted and I waited for the pain to end.

It never did. It just spread throughout my body, becoming more intense and blasting the color purple over my vision. It overloaded my mind and triggered something that I had become acquainted with over the past few years. Unconsciousness claimed me sharp and fast.

**A/N: Don't worry. Vergy's not dead! Anywho, it took me about and hour and a half to write this. I almost feel that I should've put more, but I decided not to.**

**Reviews are my anti drug!**

**Oh, and for anyone who wonders, this is not a one-shot. What kind of story would it be if I did that?**

**I swear, I will try to make the next chapter longer. I've never been very good at lengthening chapters, but I will try my best! **

**I'm also working on the next chapter for my story ****All' Fair in Love and War****, though I have no clue when I can return to writing it. Probably when school lets out.**

**Reviewers get doughnuts or cookies! Or both!**


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